Open Wounds
by obsessed1
Summary: It finally hits him. SPOILERS FOR SUNDAY. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. SHEP WHUMP


"_It hasn't hit me yet…..not looking forward to when it does."_

Sheppard limped through the gate, heard it shut down behind him and felt his legs go before he could stop himself. His P90 clattered to the floor and with a sharp exhalation he managed to catch himself before he followed it.

He was aware of voices around him, pressure on his shoulder, somebody speaking to him as he blinked blood out of his eyes and frantically tried to stay focused around the unrelenting pain in his side.

"Somebody call Cars-"

Sheppard snapped his head up, the room silenced, and Mckay was kneeling beside him, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly at the realisation of what he had just said sank in.

Even amidst his strained breathing, Sheppard managed to reach out and catch the scientists shaking arm. There was a look of abject horror painted on his pale face.

"I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Sheppard nodded and found his eyes roaming around the room, to the upset eyes focused on them.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Mckay turned to Sheppard and he could see the watery reflection of his eyes.

Sheppard hadn't cried. He'd avoided thinking about it. Thinking about Carson. Thinking about the explosion. Instead, he'd thrown himself into work, conducted safety checks, finished reports, ran, anything. Anything not to feel.

But now, something weighed down on him and made his chest swell.

The physical pain he felt only served to hammer home the undeniable truth.

Carson was gone.

He wasn't going to race through to the gateroom in a flurry of activity to treat him. He wasn't going to pester him throughout the day to make sure he was okay. He wasn't going to be there. Full stop.

"What happened?"

Elizabeth's voice cut through the tension in the air as she came to kneel beside the two men.

"We were ambushed," Teyla answered.

"Ambushed?"

"They were waiting for us…" Sheppard grit through his teeth.

"You need to get to the….." Mckay's voice broke, "…to the infirmary."

"I'm fine," Sheppard managed to grind out as he straightened experimentally.

The distant pull in his ribs reminded him he was alive. He was ok. Unlike………..

_Carson was dead._

"I'll call Doctor Biro," Elizabeth said as she bought her hand up to her earpiece.

Even Elizabeth's voice radiated pain. There was a hollowness to her eyes and a flatness to her voice that spoke volumes about her emotional state.

"No," Sheppard barked. It was unintentional. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate. So angry, but it was as if something within him….something…_had_ snapped. The words he had spoken to Teyla, about it not having hit him yet, came back to haunt him.

He realised it was hitting him there and then, in the gateroom, surrounded by personnel, his friends, lying in the very spot where they had had Carson's service.

"I'll take him," Ronon stated firmly and planted a heavy hand down onto Sheppard's shoulder, "Come on."

Sheppard took the help, stood slowly, bending double when his bruised ribs protested and managed a hollow smile, "I'm fine."

Sheppard didn't know if they could read between the lines, see that his resolve had finally broken, but without another word, they let him walk away.

Once the doors had closed behind him and he was on his own, he heard a strangulated sob escape his throat. He staggered into the bathroom and slammed his palm down onto the wall to activate the lights.

As his blurred vision cleared he stared at his reflection and found a haggard face staring back him.

He examined the cut on his hairline and cleaned it up.

It was only after he had cleaned himself up did he realise that his cheeks were slicked wet with spilt tears and he scrubbed at his face to remove them.

He felt overcome by emotion, a sensation so unfamiliar that his stomach was knotting and churning, and his eyes were still stinging.

"Stop it!" he ordered as he swiped away another treacherous tear.

His eyes burned, the tears still came.

"Stop it," he groaned in a strained voice and leaning against the wash basin for support.

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes again, face creasing, nose wrinkling, heart hammering in his chest.

"No!" he snapped and slammed his fist down onto the basin.

Pain radiated up his arm. It wasn't enough.

Sniffing angrily and looking back up at the mirror he watched as another tear rolled down his cheek and sighed defeated.

He knew he couldn't pretend any longer. He knew he couldn't avoid the raw emotion, mingled with the overwhelming feel of failure for not having prevented his death.

It was time.


End file.
